The San Rico Affair
by Celandine Sandyman
Summary: Set after The Gurnius Affair. With their partnership on the verge of meltdown, Napoleon and Illya must pull together to save Terry Cook and avoid the enemies who are desperate for revenge.
1. Chapter 1

_This is set after The Gurnius Affair from Season 4 and I'm sure there has already been plenty of fan fiction written around that episode! This is just my version of a sequel to it…_

**THE SAN RICO AFFAIR**

**ACT 1 "DO YOU WANT TO DISCUSS IT…?"**

The golden sunset was rapidly being overtaken by nightfall. The evening was warm and balmy. Outside a small, San Rico hotel on the outskirts of town, many of the visitors were sitting out, eating and drinking.

A small blue car drew up the driveway towards the entrance. The blond driver bit his lip and looked around nervously at the people outside. Alongside him in the front was another man who was half asleep, while a young woman with short blonde hair was asleep in the back. As the car gently jerked to a stop, the woman woke up.

'Oh wow…where are we?' she asked.

'Back at the hotel, Terry,' said Napoleon. The dark haired agent turned to look back at her. He gave her a smile but looked beyond weary. 'How about you go inside and see if they're still serving dinner?'

The young photographer smiled back. 'Sure. I'm starving! I'll meet you guys inside.'

After the door had shut behind Terry, Napoleon was left alone with the driver of the car. Napoleon shifted in his seat and winced. 'Get the car parked around the back. I'll get some clothes and bring them down to you.'

'Thanks,' Illya replied. He tugged awkwardly at the collar of his uniform. 'What will you bring me?'

'Who cares?' snapped Napoleon. 'Anything's better than walking around the hotel dressed as a Nazi, isn't it?'

'Yes,' Illya replied, quickly. He stopped fidgeting and settled his hands on the steering wheel. 'Napoleon, we should talk.'

'Yeah, maybe,' Napoleon replied. He opened the passenger door and slammed it behind him as he got out.

Illya watched Napoleon walking tiredly and with a slight limp towards the hotel entrance. He shook his head in dismay and pushed back his long blonde fringe.

* * * * *

Terry yawned. 'Sorry…I'm exhausted,' she smiled across the table.

'No need to apologise,' Illya replied. He continued tucking into his pasta.

'It's a shame Napoleon couldn't join us.'

'He's very tired. He wanted to go straight to bed.'

Terry put her cutlery down and looked around the small but pleasant dining room. The lights were dim, there was a single red rose on each table and a young man was playing a Spanish guitar in the corner. 'I really appreciate this though, Illya,' she said, quickly. 'You didn't have to buy me dinner.'

Illya continued focused on his food, having moved onto the side salad. 'You were very helpful today. You deserve some gratitude.'

'Still, it's a really nice thought,' Terry said, wearing her most charming smile. She rested her elbows on the table and leaned a little closer towards him. 'I'm sure you've got a lot on your mind.'

'I have?' Illya asked, disinterestedly.

Terry blinked. 'Well, you did have rather a difficult assignment, after all! I don't know how you managed it.'

Illya said nothing. He poked a meatball with his fork and it fell off the plate.

Terry sat back and sighed. 'I don't think I'm cut out for all this action.'

'You did very well today, helping us to destroy the observatory,' Illya replied. 'Though perhaps you should try to keep out of trouble from now on. Try taking pictures of celebrities instead of German war criminals.'

Terry smirked. 'Thanks for the advice.'

'A pleasure.'

Terry sighed and leaned forward on the table again. 'It's a relief to come back to such a nice place. San Rico is lovely, isn't it?'

'I haven't had much time to explore it, but I believe it's a very nice place.'

'Oh yes. I'd like to explore tomorrow.'

'I'm afraid we'll be flying back to New York in the morning.'

Terry's face fell. 'So soon? '

Illya nodded. 'Napoleon and I lead rather stressful lives.'

'So I gathered.' Terry sighed sharply. 'But Illya, you need a break! It's a shame to leave such a peaceful, romantic place!'

Illya's blue eyes looked straight at her for the first time during their meal. He cleared his throat and set his cutlery on his nearly empty dinner plate. 'Excuse me, Terry, I'm rather tired. I think I should get some sleep.' He stood.

'Alright, fine. I know when I've been dumped.' Terry looked up at him with her arms folded.

Illya flashed her a smile. 'Don't take it personally. I'll go and settle the bill. See you bright and early in the morning.'

Terry softened a little thanks to Illya's charm and smiled back. She sighed and knew she should go and get some sleep herself after her tough day. She sat back to finish her drink. Just a few minutes later, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A young man with longish dark hair and a soft tan stood at her side.

'Excuse me, miss, you look rather lonely now. May I join you?'

'Actually I was just getting ready to go, I'm afraid…'

'Already? But the night is very young!' the stranger replied. 'Please, let me get you just one more drink. Then see how you feel.'

Terry couldn't help beaming. She may not have had much luck with Illya, but at least one handsome man was keen to spend more time in her company. 'I guess one more drink won't hurt!' She stood and followed him to the bar.

* * * * *

The hotel was small and busy, so Illya wasn't able to get a room to himself. Instead he was sharing with Napoleon.

Napoleon was already in bed when Illya let himself in, though not asleep. He was stretched out on the top of his double bed, wearing his dark pyjamas. He frowned when Illya walked in, and shut his eyes.

The atmosphere was tense. They had been partners for years and had long had a habit of falling into companionable silence together, but this was different. There were things that needed to be talked about and neither of them wanted to talk.

Illya went to the bathroom and changed out of the clothes Napoleon had let him borrow. As he took off the white shirt and dark trousers that were more than a little loose on him, he remembered he didn't have any night clothes. After a quick wash he folded the clothes up neatly and went back into the bedroom wearing nothing but his briefs and a white undershirt.

'Do you have any spare pyjamas?' he asked.

Napoleon opened one eye and gave him a brief glance. 'No. I've only got the set I'm wearing.'

Illya sighed.

'You don't need them anyway,' Napoleon continued. 'It's boiling in here.'

'I prefer to sleep in pyjamas.'

'Well tough luck.' That appeared to be Napoleon's last word on the subject.

The room Napoleon had reserved was very small; there was only the main bedroom with one double bed and the bathroom joined on. Since there was no-where else, and Napoleon showed no sign of making any space for Illya in the bed, Illya tried to make himself comfortable on the green chair at the bottom of the bed.

After another period of silence, Illya spoke. 'Are you alright?'

'In what sense?' Napoleon asked, sleepily.

'Don't be obtuse,' Illya growled. 'Just tell me if you're alright.'

Napoleon sat up sharply. He briefly winced and then glared at Illya with controlled anger in his hazel eyes. 'I'm hot and feeling rather unwell, if you really want to know. I don't know if it's because of the damn heat or because I was tortured to within an inch of my life earlier today.'

Illya cowered slightly. He said nothing and Napoleon lay back down again. Illya swallowed. 'I suggested earlier that we talk about it. Do you want to discuss it now?'

'No,' Napoleon replied. He turned off the bedside lamp, and the room was lit only by the moonlight that seeped in through the gap in the closed curtains. 'Goodnight.'

Illya sighed and tucked his legs up as best he could in the chair. He shivered slightly. He tried to stay awake and think carefully about what had happened; his assignment to impersonate a ruthless German war criminal and what it had led him to do. Perhaps it could have been avoided. Perhaps there had been other choices he could have made. Perhaps he should have found another way of protecting Napoleon; one that didn't involve electronically torturing him. But he knew that there hadn't been another way. The alternative would have been death, for Napoleon, himself and Terry.

The sound of deep breathing and then gentle snoring came from the bed. Napoleon had drifted off at last. Illya relaxed. There was little point in thinking anymore tonight. Within a few moments, Illya joined his partner in sleep.

* * * * *

'Please…I don't know what you want…'

'Shut up, woman. I'm warning you for the last time.'

'Please! You can't rob me, I don't have anything! Not even my camera!'

'Enough!!'

Terry tried to struggle against the strong hands that were tying a gag behind her head. She didn't have the energy to struggle anymore. She had been putting up a fight since the charming young man had talked her into having a stroll under the star-filled sky in the grounds behind the hotel, before suddenly throwing her to the ground. Two other men had appeared and helped him to tie her up. They had dragged her to a parked car and pushed her roughly into the back. They had been driving for some time. It felt like hours to Terry.

The three men never spoke to each other, giving no clue as to who they were or where they were taking her. Terry put her head back and scolded herself for getting into this situation. What would Napoleon and Illya say?

The two U.N.C.L.E agents…she thought of them now. She desperately hoped that they would rescue her once again…


	2. Chapter 2

**THE SAN RICO AFFAIR**

**ACT 2 "WHAT EXACTLY IS WRONG WITH HIM…?"**

Illya was woken by a foot. He felt a soft kick at his side. He blinked against the strong morning sunlight that hit his blue eyes as he half opened them. 'W…what?' He looked across to see Napoleon sat on the side of the bed.

Napoleon had a slight smile on his face. 'Mind if I have my gown back?'

Illya looked confused for a second, then realised what Napoleon was referring to. He realised he was curled up in his partner's old blue dressing gown. 'Oh, sorry,' he said. 'I was cold in the night. It was the nearest thing available.'

'It's ok,' Napoleon replied. 'Keep it a while. I'm going for a shower.' He rubbed the dark stubble on his face. 'And a shave.'

Illya looked at his watch as Napoleon got up. He frowned at the time it told him. He had slept longer than he meant to. Mr Waverly was keen for his agents to get back to New York as soon as possible, and they were running late if they wanted to catch the flight their boss had arranged for them. Illya was just about to say this aloud when he heard a thud. Illya jumped up and hurried to the bathroom.

'Napoleon!!'

Illya's heart was in his mouth when he got to his knees beside the figure lying flat on the bathroom floor. Napoleon groaned, much to his relief.

'Napoleon, what's wrong?'

'Just…ah…felt dizzy,' Napoleon croaked, slowly pulling himself up. Illya quickly grabbed an arm to steady him.

'I take it you still don't feel well,' Illya frowned.

'No, I don't,' Napoleon growled. His previous bad mood was obviously fast returning. He leaned against the side of the bath and groaned against the pain he felt.

'Just take deep breathes,' Illya instructed. When he was sure Napoleon wouldn't fall if he let go, Illya released his grip on Napoleon's arm and fetched him some water. Napoleon drank it down fast.

They were both silent for a while, as Napoleon waited for the worst of his suffering to pass and Illya watched. Napoleon eventually pushed himself away from the bath and began to stagger to the bedroom. 'I'm going back to bed,' he announced.

Illya kept a hand against his partner's back during the short but painful walk. Napoleon flopped back into the bed and pulled the duvet high, groaning.

'So what are we going to do?' asked Illya. 'Our flight is in 4 hours.'

Napoleon glared at him over the top of the duvet. 'I'm not going anywhere. Except back to sleep.'

'It will be better if we get on that plane,' Illya tried to persuade. 'You can get checked at Medical and we won't have to face Mr Waverly's wrath…'

'Look, I'm sick, alright?' snapped Napoleon. 'Damn the plane. You can explain to Waverly why I'm too ill to make it.'

Illya ran a hand through his already messy blond hair. He felt yet another pang of guilt. Yes, this was his fault. He knew that. Napoleon was obviously suffering after-effects from the damage Illya had done to him yesterday. Still, Illya knew his partner too well. Napoleon had fallen into a sulk. And while he didn't doubt Napoleon was genuinely suffering, he couldn't help suspecting that Napoleon was also playing on it.

'It's not going to work, Napoleon.' Illya folded his arms.

Napoleon's brow furrowed in confusion. 'What?'

'You know what. Stop trying to make me feel guilty. You're a trained agent. You should be able to handle torture.'

Illya had rarely seen such barely-controlled fury in Napoleon's eyes. He could almost hear Napoleon's teeth grind. 'If I didn't feel so bad, I'd get up and punch you through the floor. You miserable little…I don't think I even know you anymore, _partner._' He almost spat out the last word.

Illya's arms dropped to his sides. He immediately regretted what he had said. 'I…I'll go and find Terry and tell her we won't be leaving yet. And I'll explain everything to Mr Waverly.' Head down, he hurried to put some clothes on. He had the world's fastest shave and then left the hotel room as quickly as possible.

* * * * *

'Ill? What do you mean he's ill, Mr Kuryakin?'

'He's not well at the moment, sir.'

'Well what exactly is wrong with him? A cold, perhaps?'

'No sir.' Illya paused before answering. He looked around where he stood just outside the entrance of the hotel. It was a very warm morning and there were a few people milling around, but no-one close enough to hear the conversation he was having through his communicator pen. 'Mr Solo was injured yesterday.'

'Oh.' There was suddenly a slight hint of concern in Mr Waverley's voice. 'In what way?'

Illya shut his eyes. He wished Mr Waverly wouldn't press him on the matter right now. 'He was tortured, sir, with electronic charges. I was forced to do it.'

'I see.' Mr Waverly paused. 'Alright, Mr Kuryakin, stay where you are for now. I knew that the Gurnius affair was going to be a particularly troublesome one. I'm sure you did the best you could, in a bad situation. Keep me informed and return to headquarters tomorrow, if Mr Solo's health allows.'

'Yes, sir. Thank you.' Illya closed the communicator and slipped it into the borrowed suit jacket he was wearing. He felt suddenly less burdened. He hadn't expected Mr Waverly to show much understanding. He couldn't have been happy to hear that his CEA had been tortured; by his partner, no less. But the sympathetic tone reassured Illya. He briefly wished Napoleon could be as forgiving.

With Mr Waverly dealt with, he now had the easier task of telling Terry the tag-along that she would get an extra day in San Rico to sight-see. He decided he would go with her into the town if she wanted, to buy another set of clothes; the shirts and trousers he had borrowed from Napoleon were too big on him and all he had come to San Rico with was a brown suit and hat (lost in the destruction of the Thrush complex) and the uniform of Colonel Nexor. He wasn't going to walk around in that anymore.

As he walked through the main reception of the hotel, Illya was called back by a young woman behind the desk. She had thick black hair and wide-set dark eyes. She was holding a telephone receiver. 'Mr Kuryakin? Room 26?'

'Yes,' Illya paused.

'There is a man on the line asking for you. He says it's very urgent.'

Illya thanked the girl and took the receiver from her. 'Kuryakin speaking.'

An unknown voice answered him. 'Greetings from Thrush, Mr Kuryakin. It may interest you to learn that Miss Terry Cook is in our possession. She was taken last night.'

Illya's eyes widened. 'Where is she?' he demanded.

'You will meet us at the site where our complex stood, until you effected its destruction yesterday. Be there at noon. Otherwise it will be the worse for the girl.' The voice paused. 'It may also interest you to learn that a poisonous gas has very recently been planted and released in your hotel room. If Mr Solo survives, please bring him with you. Remember, noon.' The line went dead.

Illya's mouth was open, poised to speak, but he had no chance. His thoughts immediately turned to Napoleon. Throwing the receiver down on the desk, much to the young receptionist's surprise, he ran swiftly to the main staircase.

Illya briefly wondered, as he dashed up two flights of stairs, if the gas had been released slowly into their room overnight and made Napoleon ill this morning. But that couldn't be, he decided, otherwise he would have felt the effects too. After running down the corridor, Illya got to room 26 and found the door slightly ajar. He walked in, heard a long, soft, hissing noise, and saw Napoleon lying face down in bed.

There was an overpowering smell and no air in the room. Illya covered his mouth and nose as best he could with his sleeve and quickly followed the hissing noise. He found Thrush's weapon on the floor at the foot of the bed. Grabbing the small black canister, he threw the bedroom windows open and balanced it on the windowsill. He took his gun out of his holster and shot it, so that he blew it out of existence.

Leaving the windows open to try and clear the room of the gas, Illya then turned and grabbed Napoleon. He dragged his unconscious partner out of bed and across the room, out into the corridor. He was relieved to find a pulse when he touched Napoleon's neck. He rushed to get water from the bathroom and tried splashing it onto Napoleon. It worked and he slowly came round.

'S…stop it! No!!' Napoleon protested. When he opened his eyes and found himself in Illya's grip, Illya saw a brief fear in Napoleon's eyes. Did he see still see Colonel Nexor when he saw Illya? Illya tried not to let his dismay show when he considered this.

'Are you alright, Napoleon?'

'I was…I was…fine!' Napoleon cried, now looking very bewildered when he realised he was lying in the corridor. 'I was asleep, you idiot!'

'You weren't just asleep, you were being poisoned!' snapped Illya. 'Someone broke in and released a canister of lethal gas.'

Napoleon's eyes widened. 'I fell asleep after you left. I never heard anyone break in.'

'Well the door was ajar, so obviously someone did. You must have been too deeply asleep to hear anyone,' sighed Illya. His knees were becoming uncomfortable from where he knelt in front of Napoleon. He sat back on the floor opposite his friend and told Napoleon about the phone call.

'So Thrush have been tracking us,' Napoleon summarised. 'And they obviously know we're here. We've let our guard down, Illya.'

Illya nodded solemnly. He looked at Napoleon with uncertainty in his bright blue eyes, making him look deceptively innocent. 'What do we do?'

Napoleon thought for a moment. 'We fill Mr Waverly in on the details and then get up to the site at noon. We have to play it by Thrush's rules, Illya, or Terry suffers.'

Illya nodded. He brought his arm up to look at his watch. He gasped. 'We've got less than an hour, Napoleon, we've got to get moving.'

Napoleon got to his feet and then almost fell flat on his face again. Illya managed to catch him.

'Sorry your plans for recuperation have been messed up,' Illya said, sympathetically. 'But Thrush specifically asked for you to be there, if you survived their attack.'

'It's so very nice to be wanted,' Napoleon grimaced, straightening on his feet. The agents moved back into their now gas-free hotel room, to prepare for their important meeting with Thrush.


	3. Chapter 3

**THE SAN RICO AFFAIR**

**ACT 3 "DON'T YOU THINK YOU'RE IN ENOUGH TROUBLE…?"**

The U.N.C.L.E agents drove as far as they could out of town and then had to continue on foot through the untamed grasslands . Napoleon led them up the same trail that he and Terry had used the previous day. The trail became increasingly wild. Overgrown trees and undergrowth interfered with the thin path that rose up through the small hills.

The walk was especially difficult for Napoleon. Though the trees they passed provided some shade, the noon-day sun was fierce and the heat was difficult to bear. Illya walked a few paces behind Napoleon, keeping a close eye on his partner. Napoleon stumbled a few times and fell on his knees at one point. Illya rushed to help him.

'I'm really not in the best condition to do this,' Napoleon sighed, straightening as he got back on his feet.

'Thrush asked for both of us,' Illya reminded him. 'And you might have encountered more trouble if you'd stayed at the hotel.'

'Still…I don't know how much further I can go.'

Illya rolled his eyes. 'Napoleon, please stop complaining. Here, I'll help you…'

Napoleon didn't like the reproof and pulled away the arm that Illya was trying to take hold of. 'I can manage,' he growled. 'I'd hate to put you to any trouble.'

The biting sarcasm made Illya back off. He let Napoleon lead the way again and followed behind in silence for a while. Then he spoke again. 'Listen, Napoleon…'

'It can't be much further now,' Napoleon cut in. 'We should be able to see the complex soon. Or what's left of it…'

'Napoleon, I'm going to ask for a transfer when we get back to New York.'

On hearing that bombshell, Napoleon stopped immediately and turned around. 'What?'

Illya continued walking so that he came closer. 'I think it's for the best. I don't think things will ever be right between us again. Our friendship is clearly too strained.'

After the initial shock passed, Napoleon scowled. 'So as if it weren't enough that you've tortured me half to death, you now want to abandon me? Great, Illya.'

Illya's eyes widened and he was frozen. 'I thought it's what you would want!'

'Have I said that?'

'No, but surely you no longer want me as a partner. It's not hard to see how much you now despise me.'

Though Napoleon opened his mouth to reply, the words died before he could speak them. He heard a rustling in the trees that flanked them on each side of the trail. He moved to Illya's side and they both watched two dark suited men step out in front of them, clearly armed with guns.

'Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen,' one said. 'But we heard your voices and followed. We're with Thrush. Please allow us escort you the rest of the way.'

'How very kind,' Napoleon replied, flicking a glance at the gun that was now pointed at his head. With Illya being similarly threatened, the U.N.C.L.E agents looked at one another and went with Thrush without argument.

* * * * *

The site where the observatory had stood just one day ago was a complete ruin. Mr Waverly had told Illya earlier that he was sending a large clean-up team to San Rico but they wouldn't arrive until the following day. The ground was charred and blackened from the explosions. There was little evidence of the complex that had stood except for a few twisted remnants of the building.

Napoleon and Illya were shocked by the number of Thrush workers that had moved into the desolated site. At least 30 were shifting through the remains of the observatory. Still others were obviously armed and keeping a close eye on the U.N.C.L.E agents as they were led closer.

A tall man with a dark grey suit was apparently eager to see Napoleon and Illya. He looked very grim.

'Welcome, gentlemen. I'm glad you decided to turn up. I'm Henry Cole. I was one of two head Thrush operatives sent here to oversee the operation.'

'How very nice to meet you,' Napoleon replied. 'I'm surprised to see so many of you out here.'

Mr Cole scowled. 'We have much work to do. We need to salvage what we can from the remains of our multi-billion dollar investment.'

'That won't be much,' remarked Illya.

'You're right, Mr Kuryakin. Thank you for pointing that out.'

Napoleon looked around. 'Where is Terry?'

'Ah yes, Miss Cook.' Mr Cole asked one of his associates to fetch her. There was a small fleet of cars stood nearby and Terry was dragged rather roughly from one of them. The slim young woman was unsteady on her feet as she was pushed along by the Thrush men. 'Oh guys!!' she cried when she set eyes on Napoleon and Illya. 'Am I ever glad to see you!'

'What have you done to her?' Napoleon demanded. 'She looks ill.'

'She's just recovering from the effects of the truth serum we administered to her earlier,' Mr Cole smiled. 'Miss Cook has been very helpful.'

'Let her go. She's innocent and didn't ask to be involved in any of this.'

'True, Mr Solo. We have every intention of letting her go, now that we've got the information we needed from her. You and Mr Kuryakin will come with us in exchange for her release.'

Napoleon and Illya looked at one another. Both were considering fighting back, but at this point it wasn't an option. They were surrounded by at least 10 armed Thrush men. Also, Terry's safety was at sake. At the same time as each other, they raised their hands over their heads and surrendered. They were instantly grabbed and had their hands tied roughly behind their backs with thick rope.

With the prized U.N.C.L.E agents firmly in Thrush clutches, Mr Cole then gave his instructions to the men who held Terry. 'Get her into one of the cars and take her down to the port. Keep her there until we're ready to leave. She will accompany us back to Thrush Central.'

'What?!' gasped Terry. 'No!' She was immediately dragged to one of the nearby vehicles.

'You have us,' snapped Illya. 'Release her as you said you would!'

'No. We actually intend to keep her,' smirked Mr Cole. 'She knows too much. '

'And what will you do with us?' demanded Napoleon.

The powerful Thrush agent smiled and taunted his enemies. 'You'll come with us to Thrush Central too. But not straight away. We have some special treatment arranged for you two. I think it's thoroughly deserved after causing the devastation you see around you.'

Napoleon dropped his head in defeat. The odds were stacked against them and he was too exhausted to try and fight back. Illya looked across at him, disappointed and not as ready to give in. Illya kicked back and caught the closest Thrush agent in the legs. In his place, another 2 enemy agents stepped up and pushed Illya to his knees, holding him so he couldn't move.

Mr Cole stepped forward and punched Illya in the face. 'A valiant but pointless effort, Mr Kuryakin.' He grabbed Illya's chin and forced the Russian agent to look at him. 'You were one of the main reasons our investment came to nothing. I have something extra special planned for you.' Illya's face remained stony and he said nothing. Mr Cole turned away and instructed his men. 'Let's go.'

Illya glanced at Napoleon, who was watching him. They exchanged a look of frustration. Then Illya was dragged to his feet and he and Napoleon were forced to start walking with the agents, Mr Cole leading the way. Instead of being taken to one of the Thrush cars as they expected, the U.N.C.L.E agents were frog marched back onto the trail. They had no idea where they would be taken, but neither were in a hurry to get there.

* * * * *

Terry watched the scene from the backseat of the long black car she had been bungled into. Then the driver of the car began to speed them away.

'Where will they be taken?' she demanded, ignoring the grogginess she still felt to try and sound fierce.

'Don't you think you're in enough trouble without worrying about them?' the Thrush driver asked.

'Well sorry but I care about them,' Terry snapped. 'I trust them.'

The driver laughed. He was the same handsome stranger that had deceived Terry and captured her at the hotel the previous night. He looked at her through the rear view mirror. 'That's very unwise. You should trust no-one, Miss Cook.'

'Not everyone's as twisted as you and your colleagues,' Terry fired back. Her enemy fell silent, and she felt quite proud of herself.

It was hardly a triumph to win a battle of words, though. She couldn't rely on Napoleon and Illya now; they had their own troubles. She would have to help herself if she was going to avoid being shipped to Thrush Central.

To her sudden joy, she realised that in the rush to get her bungled back to the car her captor hadn't tied her up very well. The bonds around her hands were loose. It wouldn't take much effort to get free.

There was no road this far out and the car was struggling through the fields. As the driver focused on getting the car through the long undergrowth and back to the road, Terry waited for the right moment to take matters into her own hands. It was a decision that would either save or quickly end her life.

* * * * *


	4. Chapter 4

**THE SAN RICO AFFAIR**

**ACT 4 "MAYBE I CAN HELP GET THEM FREE!…"**

The sun was scorching hot as it beat down on San Rico's dry grasslands and hills. A strange procession of Thrush agents and their two captives walked across this landscape without stopping for any rest or water.

The walk was mercilessly short, no more than an hour long. It was more than enough for the U.N.C.L.E agents. Illya was tired but knew that his suffering was nothing compared to Napoleon's. After all the punishment he had taken the previous day, Napoleon was already weakened. The long walk in the heat was almost more than he could take. He wore an increasingly pained look with each step he was forced to take. When he occasionally slowed down, the Thrush agents pushed him into quickening his pace.

Finally a small building came into view. Close to a small copse of trees stood a derelict place that looked like an abandoned farmhouse. The parade of Thrush and out-numbered U.N.C.L.E agents headed for the building and entered it.

They all gathered in a large room, probably an old living room. It was obvious from the state of disrepair that no-one had lived in the place for many years, but there were signs that people had occupied it very recently.

Napoleon and Illya were dumped on the floor in the middle of the room. Their hands were still tightly bound. They were forced to watch as Mr Cole and his associates drank greedily from water bottles in front of them.

'Sorry, gentlemen, but there isn't enough to go around,' Mr Cole smiled.

Napoleon looked away, so desperate for water that watching others drink it was a torture in itself. Illya tried to ignore the same desperation he felt by starting a conversation.

'May I ask what you've been doing here?' he asked. 'You have provisions. You must have been here for a few days at least.'

'We have indeed, Mr Kuryakin,' Mr Cole replied, studying his reflection in a broken mirror on the wall. 'You may recall I told you I was one of two agents assigned to oversee this operation. I believe you met the other one.'

Illya had worked it out and nodded. 'Mr Brown.'

'Yes, Mr Brown. While he worked with Marshall Gurnius, he was relaying information back to me here. It was my job to make sure everything went to plan. My associates and I were back-up in case anything should go wrong.'

Napoleon and Illya shared a look and smiled as they shared the same thought. Napoleon raised a triumphant smile. 'I don't know if you noticed, but it went wrong.'

Mr Cole spun round the face the enemy agent. 'Events overtook us and by the time we realised something was amiss, the whole complex was destroyed and it was too late for us to intervene.' He strode forward and stopped in front of the Uncle agents, looking down on them with distain. 'Thrush have lost billions of dollars and a top Thrush operative thanks to you two.'

'Not exactly,' Illya replied. 'We weren't directly responsible for Mr Brown's death.'

'Just because you didn't pull the trigger doesn't mean you weren't partly to blame.' Mr Cole paused and watched the surprise register on Illya's face. 'Yes, we know what happened. We know the whole sequence of events thanks to Terry Cook. Under the effects of truth serum she revealed everything as she saw it, in great detail. It was rather interesting, to say the least. ' He looked closely at Napoleon. 'I believe you, Mr Solo, found the experience particularly trying.'

Napoleon flicked a glance at Illya and looked down. Illya looked uncomfortable.

The Thrush agent stood back again. He turned to his waiting henchmen. 'Punish them. I'll allow them to be beaten but not too badly. I'll return shortly.' Mr Cole took one last look at the U.N.C.L.E agents tied up on the floor and then left the room.

Napoleon and Illya were at the mercy of 8, well-built and violent Thrush agents. The two agents looked at each other with resigned glances before bracing themselves for the on-coming attacks.

* * * * * *

The car rolled twice down the small hill and ended up in a ditch on its side. Steam rose up from beneath the bonnet.

'You stupid girl!!' snapped the young Thrush agent who had been driving it. He tried to struggle out of the very uncomfortable position he was now in.

Terry Cook didn't reply. She checked herself over for injuries. Perhaps suddenly leaning over from the backseat, grabbing the steering wheel and turning the car over the edge of the embankment had been rather foolish. But she was sure she had suffered nothing worse than a few cuts and bruises. She began to kick the door that was now above her head.

'I'll kill you,' the Thrush man snarled. 'I have a gun and…argh!!!' He was clearly hurt and had trouble moving.

Terry took advantage of this. The door she kicked flew open and she pulled herself through it. She couldn't resist looking back into the car with a smirk. 'Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get free eventually.' She realised the furious agent was desperately trying to reach under his jacket to get to his gun, so she jumped off the battered car and into a muddy ditch. She pulled herself out of it and then ran as fast as she could.

As Terry hurried through the long grass of the overgrown fields, the joy she felt at escaping quickly disappeared. She was now alone and stuck out here without help. She turned and looked up at the top of the hill the car had managed to tumble down. Yesterday there had been an observatory there; a secret complex used by Thrush and their German associates. Now it was a ruin but over-run by Thrush agents. She thought aloud.

'If I try and get back to town on foot, it will take me an hour, or maybe more…but if I head back the way Mr Cole was going with Napoleon and Illya, maybe I can catch them up. And then, somehow, maybe I can help get them free!'

Terry bit her nails and paced up and down a few times as she considered what to do. A flock of crows flew nosily into the air and made her jump. She spun around, suddenly frightened that the injured Thrush man was free and after her. Luckily there was no sign of him but Terry realised she didn't have much time to make the decision. She decided to go after the Uncle agents.

Terry took the short journey back to the Thrush site by approaching at a different angle. She climbed the hill and hid herself in the undergrowth and trees that surrounded it. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was expecting to be grabbed by an enemy agent at any time, though she hadn't run into any so far.

The young photographer realised why when she saw the site. She hid in the middle of a leafy bush and observed what was happening as best she could. Instead of working hard though the ruins of the observatory, the Thrush workers were sitting around talking and eating. It seemed that most of them were taking a break now that Mr Cole was out of the way.

'This is crazy anyway,' one of the nearest workers was laughing. A few heads nodded in agreement and he was encouraged to continue. 'What the hell does Cole expect to find out here? The place is blown to kingdom come.'

'I think he's finally got that,' another one said. 'But the site still needs clearing for the new satrap he wants to build.'

'This is a stupid place to put one.'

'Cole says it's Thrush land now. How he expects to explain that to the San Rico authorities is beyond me. He's just sore because Uncle's golden boys have spoilt his and Brown's glorious scheme.'

'Where's Cole taken those guys?'

'Up to the hideout, I guess. Whatever he's got planned for them, it won't be pretty.'

Terry was so frustrated she let out a groan. Napoleon and Illya were long gone and probably enduring some cruel torture at the hands of the vengeful Thrush agent. She rubbed her eyes and wished that she was a million miles away from all this.

When she finally looked back the site, something caught her eye. Something was glistening on the ground in the sun. She squinted. Terry wasn't sure but she thought she recognised it as a silver pen that Napoleon had used a communicator. Napoleon and Illya had been stripped of all their weapons and the communicators had also been taken from them. Had one been dropped there? Did it still work?

Terry was working out how to sneak closer and reach the abandoned communicator when she was suddenly grabbed. She was yanked out of the bush and to her feet; she was faced with half a dozen Thrush agents. Apparently not all of the workers were taking a break.

'Miss Cook, isn't it?' the one who held her asked. 'Aren't you supposed to be on your way to Thrush Central?'

Terry tried to kick out. 'Get off me!!' she snapped. The agents were amused.

'Forget it,' the agent replied, as his colleagues stepped forward with rope to tie her with. 'However you escaped, you'll live to regret it now…'


	5. Chapter 5

**THE SAN RICO AFFAIR**

**ACT 5 "ME? I WON'T BE DOING ANYTHING…"**

Illya had never been so pleased to see a Thrush agent in all his life. When Mr Cole stepped back into the broken down living room, he signalled for his men stop their beatings. Illya briefly looked himself over as best he could, with his hands and feet still tied tightly . He could taste blood and knew his lip was split. His shirt had been torn and the aching around his ribs and chest made him certain he would soon have bruising. Hands grabbed him roughly from behind and he was dumped at Mr Cole's feet.

Napoleon was also dropped to the floor. He was in a similar state to Illya, with an obvious black eye, slightly swollen lip, torn clothing and a few noticeable bruises. Illya looked at him with concern.

Napoleon was out of breath and looked exhausted but managed a nod at his partner. Both of them knew that despite the painful roughing up they had both received, they had gotten off pretty lightly. They were U.N.C.L.E's most prized team in the hands of their vicious enemies. They did not expect to be shown any mercy.

Mr Cole had something in his hands, a long poker. He turned it over in his hands as he looked at it. He held it up for Napoleon and Illya to see. 'Sorry to keep you both, but I was searching for this. I knew I had brought one along. One never knows when you may be required to administer electronic torture…isn't that right, Mr Kuryakin?'

Illya shot him a withering scowl and said nothing. Mr Cole laughed.

'Yes, Miss Cook revealed what you had to do to keep your cover as Colonel Nexor. Don't worry, Mr Kuryakin, I'm sure your partner forgives you. Don't you think?'

Illya still said nothing. Mr Cole stepped closer and bent down to look into his face. 'No? You don't think so? I think it might be worth finding out.' He stood up straight again and issued orders to his men. 'Untie them. And follow my instructions.'

Illya was grabbed by two of the larger men and untied. He was held by his arms and was forced to his knees. One of them pulled open his already torn shirt, much to his surprise. In fury he tried to bite the hand of the Thrush agent that did it, earning himself a smack behind his head.

'Good, keep him there,' Mr Cole ordered. He stepped forward, slapping the poker into one palm.

Napoleon watched desperately. 'What are you going to do to him?'

'Me? Nothing, Mr Solo. I won't be doing anything.' Mr Cole to turned to the rest of his men. 'Get him over here.'

Napoleon was also untied and throw to his knees in front of Illya. Mr Cole had the rest of his men stand close behind Napoleon, to keep eye on him. Then the top Thrush operative came to Napoleon's side and thrust the poker he held into Napoleon's hands.

'Now, Solo, here's your chance to settle a score with your esteemed colleague. This device will shoot an electric charge into him when it makes contact. Do it.'

Illya's blues eyes widened when he realised what Mr Cole wanted Napoleon to do. He had been on the receiving end of this kind of treatment before; he wasn't looking forward to a repeat of it. He tried to struggle free from the grip of the two men that held him but knew the effort was useless.

Napoleon looked stunned. He looked down at the device in his hands. 'No, I won't do it.'

'Please, consider this,' Mr Cole said, gently. 'Yesterday you were strapped down and tortured by Mr Kuryakin. Oh, of course he was trying to keep his cover and perhaps, by doing so, he saved your life. But Miss Cook told us that he was cruel. He didn't stop, even when you could hardly stand the punishment. He told you that you would regret the day you were ever born. He enjoyed it, Mr Solo. He played on your fear. And the pain he inflicted…so much pain…'

Napoleon's hands tightened on the poker. He dropped his gaze to the floor.

Illya was desperate to make eye contact with Napoleon, to try and read what he was thinking. When Napoleon finally looked up at him, Illya wished that he hadn't . There was so much anger in the hazel eyes that stared back at him. And…hate?

'It's not true, Napoleon, he's wrong,' Illya pleaded.

'Can you deny what happened?' demanded Mr Cole.

Illya looked away.

'No, you can't!' Cole laughed. 'Mr Kuryakin, you can't blame your partner for resenting you. How can he ever trust you again after such an experience? He has every reason to want revenge…'

'Alright!' Illya suddenly cut in, his voice strained. He gave the Thrush agent a look which he wished could kill him and then looked at Napoleon. 'Alright, Napoleon, if this is what you want to do, then do it.'

Napoleon briefly looked surprised and then frowned. He took another look at the device. He flicked a switch on the side of it and a soft humming noise was heard from the poker as the electricity travelled through the top of it.

Mr Cole put a hand on Napoleon's shoulder. 'Yes, you need to do this. Go ahead, Solo. Do it!'

Illya swallowed. He tensed as he prepared himself for the agonising touch of the device on his skin. 'Yes, Napoleon. Do what you must do.'

Napoleon remained silent as he raised the poker and then lashed out with it. A cry of agony filled the room….

Mr Cole dropped to the floor, arms clasped around his middle where the poker had made contact. The other Thrush agents were briefly stunned and Illya took advantage. He kicked back and managed to loosen the grip his captors had on him.

'Get Solo!!' yelled Cole, as the pain subsided enough for him to think again. Napoleon was jumped on by Cole's thugs and the poker was knocked across the floor. He didn't have time to react and he was quickly hidden from sight by his many attackers.

Illya managed to get free and rushed to help Napoleon. He leapt onto the scrum of Thrush men, grabbed the closest one around his neck and yanked him backwards. The unlucky Thrush agent yelled and his colleagues were distracted. Napoleon had some room to move and he flung another agent onto his back. After a scuffle, Napoleon managed to relieve his attacker of his gun. He headed straight for Mr Cole.

Illya did well in his struggle with the agent he had almost choked but he was soon losing the fight. Other agents were also getting involved so that no sooner had he kicked away one, Illya was overcome by another two or three. He was getting weaker and unable to keep fighting…

Napoleon's voice bellowed across the room, demanding attention. 'Get off him!! Or I kill Cole!!'

The Thrush agents were forced to take notice. Napoleon was stood holding their superior in a headlock and holding a gun up in his free hand. With his shirt torn and grim desperation in his dark eyes, Napoleon looked deadly serious. 'You're letting us get out of here, or else Cole gets a bullet. Understand?'

All eyes were on Napoleon as he dragged Cole across the room towards the broken back window. Illya was allowed to get to his feet without interference and he limped after Napoleon. Illya hopped out of the window, narrowly avoiding jagged pieces of broken glass. Napoleon stopped right by the window, still staring at all the stunned Thrush men. 'Alright…you can have him back!' He pushed Mr Cole to the floor and then followed Illya out of the window as fast as he could.

'What are you idiots waiting for?!' Cole yelled. 'Get them! Finish them!'

Napoleon and Illya heard the command. They dragged themselves through the long grass around the back of the house. Illya looked up and noticed a line of trees up ahead, but the land then dipped down. He turned to his partner. 'Let's head that way!'

Napoleon nodded and they both heard a shot behind them. 'Just keep going, and keep down!'

They both pushed through the long undergrowth that thankfully gave them some cover. As they got closer to the trees they heard rushing water. The land had a steep drop into a narrow river. Napoleon and Illya looked down at it as they took cover behind the trunks of the trees. Breathing heavily, they turned to each other.

'Should we?' gasped Illya.

Napoleon opened his mouth to reply and was cut off by the sound of another, much closer bullet. 'I don't think…we have much…choice,' he panted.

The Uncle agents pushed themselves away from the tree and stumbled down the hill, throwing themselves into the rushing water at the bottom. They quickly disappeared from sight.

* * * * *

Two Thrush agents with handguns stopped when they reached the top of the hill. They were in time to see their blond haired enemy carried away by the water. They guessed that the dark haired one, who was nowhere to be seen, had also been dragged down by the river.

'What do we tell Cole, then?' the younger agent asked his colleague.

The larger agent placed his gun back into his holster and shrugged. 'That they're dead. They're as good as anyway. Can't say I'm sorry to see the back of them either.'

The younger agent smirked and followed the other one back to deliver the good news.


	6. Chapter 6

**THE SAN RICO AFFAIR**

**ACT 6 "YOU PUT ON A DAMN GOOD ACT…"**

Illya went with the flow of the river, letting it carry him along without trying to swim against it. The current was luckily not too strong. He kept looking over his shoulder occasionally to check on Napoleon; he wasn't far behind and also content to be carried by the rushing water.

After a while, they decided it was safe enough to get back on dry land. The river side was dotted with trees and when a group of them came into view they pushed themselves to swim for the bank. They hauled their tired bodies into the long grass and dragged themselves into the welcome shade of the trees.

Napoleon sat and slumped back against one of the trunks, breathing hard. 'Well, that was very refreshing,' he sighed.

'Very,' replied Illya. He rubbed his hair to dry it, making the fair mop stick out in all directions. He looked around. 'I don't think we should stay here long.'

Napoleon rubbed his bloodshot eyes. They were already half-closed with tiredness and dark circles were obvious underneath them. 'No, but I need a few minutes to get myself together.'

Illya silently agreed. He sat crossed-legged on the grass in front of his partner and studied him. After all the suffering of yesterday, the exhausting walk under the hot sun and the beating from Thrush, Napoleon looked wrecked. Illya was also weary but far more concerned for Solo than his own condition.

Napoleon raised an eyebrow at his friend, mildly amused that his friend was gazing at him with his piercing blue eyes. 'What?'

'I think you should rest for a while.'

'That's what I'm doing.'

'I mean you should rest properly. Try and sleep for a while.'

'Illya, Thrush are crawling all over San Rico. There's every chance some of Cole's goons are trying to find us. I don't want to let my guard down that much.'

'But I'll keep guard. I'll keep an eye out and make sure no-one is around.' He paused and watched Napoleon frown. 'Why not? Don't you trust me?' When Napoleon didn't reply, Illya's face hardened. 'You don't trust me, do you. You're still holding a grudge…'

'Illya…'

'Admit it, you are! Damn it, Napoleon!' Illya pulled himself to his feet. He felt his frustration boiling over. 'You know, there was a moment when you were forced to hold that poker to me that I thought you would go through with it and take your revenge on me.'

'Would you have blamed me if I had?' snapped Napoleon, fire in his eyes despite the tiredness. 'Cole was right about it all. You got on with torturing me without any hesitation. You put on a damn good act…'

'Napoleon, if I hadn't put on "a damn good act", both of us would have been shot on site,' seethed Illya. 'And without hesitation? Perhaps you were in too much pain to notice, but I was on a knife-edge the whole time. I expected to be left alone with you and Terry, I didn't expect Gurnius and Brown to follow me and demand a show! I had to put one on for them. Otherwise…' He stopped and pushed back his fringe out of habit. 'I wish you had put a few volts through me. At least then we might be even and able to move on from this.'

Napoleon looked down at the ground. He looked both thoughtful and exhausted. The silence between them was deafening. Only the sound of the river flowing close by broke it. Illya fidgeted with the small tears on his ruined shirt.

'Alright, regardless of whether you trust me or not, I'm going to take a look around and make sure we haven't been followed. Sleep or keep yourself awake, I don't care.' Illya stepped away and turned to walk back along the riverbank. He stamped through the long grass.

'Illya?'

The voice stopped him in his tracks. He stood still.

'Be careful.'

Illya smiled to himself. He didn't turn around and carried on walking, though a little less aggressively than before.

* * * * *

The landscape was still a sea of long grass, rocks and occasional trees. Illya kept to the edge of the river so he wouldn't get himself lost. His sense of geography was very good but he didn't want to risk getting stranded out in the wild like this. As if things weren't bad enough…

Illya didn't go far. He didn't want to leave Napoleon alone for long. He listened carefully and kept a sharp look-out for any sign of life, but except for birds and small mammals in the long grass, he didn't meet with any. He was soon satisfied that Thrush had left them alone, for now at least.

This was until he came across a small bridge in the distance. Illya saw three vehicles lined up one side of the river by this bridge but not making any move. Illya got down, concealing himself in the long grass, and crawled as close as he dared.

The drivers of the vehicles were arguing amongst themselves. They were apparently wanting to cross the river but the bridge was too narrow for the vans.

'So what do we do? Cole wants the building materials at the site before dark.'

'Just wait. I'll get him on the radio and ask him what to do. If he's desperate enough he'll come up with something.'

Illya lay flat in the long grass and hardly dared breath. He was so close to who he was sure were Thrush workers, their shoes were almost by his face. One of the workers disappeared and returned shortly. 'Alright, I've spoken to Cole. He sounds crazy. But he's given me directions to get to the site without crossing the river. It means driving back east…'

'This is stupid,' snapped his colleague. 'Let's get going, then. Don't want to make him even more cranky.'

Illya waited for the drivers to relay the information to the third van driver, then heard the doors of the vehicles slamming shut. There was no trail and the vehicles had a hard time moving off again. Once Illya was sure they were a safe distance away, he stood and watched them disappear.

Illya was concerned by the growing Thrush presence in the area. He had to pass on the information to Napoleon so they could decide what to do.

The Russian agent set off back down the river bank at a run, but he couldn't keep up the pace for long. His body quickly reminded him that he had been through a beating a short time ago and hadn't allowed himself any time to recuperate. He slowed down and walked a briskly as he could manage.

The familiar site of trees by the riverbank up ahead made him pick up his pace. He arrived there breathlessly.

'N…Napoleon? I…saw…Thrush…' Illya paused. He leaned against a tree trunk and looked down at his partner, who was sleeping peacefully in the shade. Illya sighed and chuckled quietly to himself. Feeling even more tired and aching all over, Illya dropped down next to Napoleon. He knew he would have to wake his partner but he was very reluctant.

Illya curled up beside Napoleon on the dry grass and savoured how nice it felt to rest at last. He listened out but heard nothing except the running water and birdsong, which was even more relaxing. He glanced at Napoleon once more before letting his eyes shut. He realised he wanted to have this closeness with his friend, in case it didn't last much longer. The thought made him uneasy so he pushed it to the back of his mind and let sleep take over. Surely it couldn't hurt to rest for a while…


	7. Chapter 7

**THE SAN RICO AFFAIR**

**ACT 7 "ARE THINGS OK NOW?"**

Illya had an unpleasant awakening. He sat up sharply, breathing hard, the images from a bad dream still on the edge of his mind. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. It felt greasy and he felt sure it wasn't a pretty sight.

Focusing on more important matters, Illya was horrified that it was now dark. The sound of crickets filled the night air and Illya could see stars through the gaps in the branches of the trees above them. He turned his attention to his fellow agent. Napoleon was still fast asleep, sprawled out on the ground as if he thought he was in a very comfortable king-sized bed. Illya grabbed his shoulder and shook it.

'Come on, Napoleon, wake up, now…' It took a few attempts but eventually Illya managed to wake his friend. 'We've overslept.'

When memory returned to him, Napoleon groaned. 'It feels like I've slept for a few minutes.'

'More like hours. I should have stayed awake. We really have to get moving.'

'As happy as I'll be to get away from San Rico, Illya, I don't think there's any great rush. Thrush obviously don't want to go to the trouble of finding us and poor Terry is probably half-way to Thrush Central by now.'

'No, we really have to go,' Illya protested. 'Earlier, I saw a fleet of Thrush vans heading for where the observatory used to stand. I think we need to see what's happening. Mr Waverly will be sending a clean-up team in a few hours and they won't be prepared for so many Thrushies.'

Napoleon took in the information and then nodded solemnly. 'That changes things, then. We'd better get going.'

'Right,' replied Illya. He got to his feet and then felt Napoleon grab his arm. He looked back down at his partner, who still looked very weary despite the rest. 'What is it?'

'It's fine,' Napoleon replied, quietly. He pulled himself to his feet, relying on Illya's arm for support as he did so. They were face to face and Napoleon smiled. 'Hey, I know some things are…difficult to talk about. But I'm glad we had it out earlier, about what happened.'

Illya dropped his eyes to his shoes. 'Yes. We needed to.'

'So…are things ok now?' Napoleon asked, a little hesitantly.

Illya looked up again. 'Everything will be ok, Napoleon, I will make sure of that.' He paused and a wry smile creased his lips. 'I meant what I said before. I'm going to ask for a transfer when we get back.'

Napoleon's dark eyes widened in a mixture of hurt and dismay. He tightened his grip on Illya's arm almost painfully. 'What?! Illya!'

'We're running out of time,' Illya replied, firmly. He pulled himself out of Napoleon's grip. 'We need to focus on the task at hand. I'm not going to discuss it any further, yet. Understand?'

There was little point arguing with Illya when he sounded this stubborn. Napoleon had tried it many times before and always unsuccessfully. With a frustrated sigh, Napoleon gritted his teeth and nodded. He followed behind his partner a few paces and they stepped out of their safe little area and into the night.

* * * *

Terry Cook winced against the bellowing voice.

'We're behind schedule!! I wanted the foundations of the place to be laid by now. Instead I get back to find you all lazing around…'

'Sir, please…'

'No excuses! Get everyone working through the night. I want that building up by sunrise. Now get on with it!'

The weary supervisor nodded and left his superior.

Mr Cole was clearly in no mood to argue. He looked around the large tent he had had put up for him and stormed around it. He almost kicked Terry, who was lying in a corner tied up. Terry looked up into the dark eyes of Cole.

'You know, whatever you manage to do, it doesn't change the fact that your organisation's little scheme failed miserably.'

'Miss Cook, please remember that if it weren't for an unfortunate accident you would be well on your way to Thrush Central. As it is, you're still in our hands. If you want to be spared then please watch your tongue.'

Terry fell silent. For all of a few seconds. 'What did you do with Napoleon and Illya?'

'They're dead, young lady.'

'I…I don't believe you!'

'It was for the best. They were out of control.' He scowled as he tentatively touched the still painful spot on his waist where he had been attacked with his own electrical devise of torture. 'Although, if I'd had more time with them, I had hoped to convince at least one of them to re-consider their future as U.N.C.L.E agents. They could have been useful.'

'They wouldn't have joined you,' replied Terry, quietly.

Cole checked the ropes that kept Terry tied up. 'I'm tired of you making a nuisance of yourself.' When he was sure she was not able to escape, Cole walked to the entrance of the tent. 'Stay quiet. Or you'll soon be joining your agent friends in death.'

Terry was left alone in the tent with nothing to do except watch the flickering of a lantern in the corner. She bowed her head and let herself softly cry out of despair and grief.

* * * *

The moon was shining over the wild landscape and there was an orange glow from the lights around the Thrush site. Below the hill where the observatory once stood, the foliage was disturbed by two figures who were making their way towards it.

Illya jumped onto a rock and looked up at the site they were still a safe distance from. 'Not far now,' he whispered.

Napoleon leaned against the rock and nodded. 'Good. Although what we're going to do when we get there is anyone's guess.' He rubbed his dark eyes and looked around. Then he noticed something large sticking out of a ditch and lit by the moonlight. He tugged Illya's shirt sleeve. 'Look there! Is that a car?'

Illya followed his partner's gaze. 'Yes…a rather broken car.'

'Let's take a look,' Napoleon replied.

The U.N.C.L.E agents hurried over to the crashed vehicle and examined it. There was no one in it.

'I'm sure this is the car that Terry was taken away in,' Napoleon said. 'Either the driver was very careless or she managed to get him to crash it.'

Illya jumped down from the side of the car which was upturned. 'Perhaps it's too much to hope for that she managed to escape. We have to assume she's still with Thrush.'

'Trust you to assume the worst,' Napoleon replied, raising an eyebrow.

Illya shrugged. 'It's always the safest thing to assume.' They exchanged a look and then continued their journey to the site.

Under the cover of trees and bushes, Napoleon and Illya got as close as they dared to the site. They dropped onto their stomachs and wriggled forward to peer out over what was now a building site. Both agents watched the Thrush workers run around like busy ants. They both noticed Mr Cole, stood outside a large tent and watching the building work very carefully.

'No sign of Terry,' whispered Napoleon. 'Though if they have got her, I expect she'll be in Cole's little make-shift headquarters there.'

'So, what now?' asked Illya, also in a whisper.

Napoleon watched the Thrush workers grimly. 'We could run down there cause a little mayhem. Depends on how you feel about taking on a very large gang of Thrushies.'

Illya frowned and dropped his chin onto his arms. 'Very funny. I was hoping for a little more of plan than to simply go in all guns blazing.'

'Guns? If only,' sighed Napoleon, looking down at his torn shirt where his holster would normally sit. His eyes them flickered across to his partner. Lying on his stomach, his head still resting on his arms and staring straight ahead, Illya didn't notice. Napoleon felt inspiration strike. 'You know, you look a mess.'

Illya lifted his head and turned to give Napoleon a piercing glare. 'You're no oil painting yourself.'

'This could work to our advantage.' Napoleon smiled. 'I have an idea.'

Illya brightened. 'You do?' He immediately felt a sinking feeling when he noticed the mischievous look Napoleon was giving him. 'I'm not going to like this, am I.'

* * * * *

Cole had his supervisors gathered in a huddle over the plans for the new satrap. 'You'll notice I also want a memorial made to go here, to honour Brown. Thrush Central will approve.'

One of his men looked puzzled. 'You want Gurnius named on it too?'

Cole glared at him. 'No. I've been informed that we were betrayed by our German ally. He deserves no special honour.'

As they were discussing other parts of the construction, a shout went up from one of the guards around the site. Cole and his men watched in amazement as a young man ran into view. He looked almost crazed. He was running and looking back over his shoulder with wide blue eyes, then stumbling. Most of the surprised workers stopped and watched the terrified man.

'Help!! Help me, please!! I need help, quickly!!' The man got back on his feet after stumbling and looked around frantically. He noticed Cole and then shouted again. 'You! I know you! Please, help me!!'

'Do you want us to shoot him?' asked one of the supervisors, pulling a gun from his holster.

'No wait,' Cole said. Cole waited and watched the blonde young man drop to his knees in front of him. He was a pitiful sight; his shirt was almost torn to shreds, dirt and blood-stains on his body and in his hair. He was breathing hard and his eyes were full of fear. He grabbed at one of Cole's trouser legs.

'I…I know you, Mr Cole…will you help me? He…he's trying to kill me!!'

'Who's trying to kill you, young man?'

'M…my partner…he started beating me…after we ran away….I've been running from him all day. He won't stop until he finds me and kills me…he won't forgive me for what I did to him!!'

Mr Cole smiled down at the desperate young man. 'Please, Mr Kuryakin, you've been out in the sun for too long.'

'No…no, it's true,' Illya replied, in a broken voice. 'I'm begging you to help me…protect me…please…' He slumped forward and Cole moved his leg so that the blonde agent hit the ground unconscious.

'How the mighty have fallen,' beamed Cole, looking at his men who also sniggered. 'I tried to break U.N.C.L.E's greatest partnership but it appears to have self-destructed without much help from me. I shouldn't have gone to so much trouble.' He gave Illya a brief kick, but he didn't move. 'Throw him in the tent. He must have heat-stroke. He'll either die on his own of dehydration or we'll deal with him in the morning.'

Two of Cole's men stepped forward and dragged Illya into the tent. They walked past a very bewildered Terry Cook, who had been asleep, and dumped the agent in another corner. They stood over him.

'Where's the rest of the rope?' asked the first one.

'Not much point using it,' said the second. 'He's out of it.'

'And what if he comes round?'

'Hey look, he's in no condition to fight. The sun here is pretty nasty. And if he's not had water all day…' The Thrush agent leaned closer to Illya to examine his breathing.

It was then that Illya sprang to life. Illya punched the agent before the Thrush man knew what was happening and he went down instantly. The other shocked Thrush agent leapt at Illya but his enemy quickly got the better of him. Illya kicked the agent onto his side and managed to knock him out as well with a swift blow.

Breathing heavily, Illya stood over the unconscious Thrush agents with his fists clenched. Then he sighed and turned to face a stunned young woman who was tied up close by. Illya smiled and pushed his long and messed-up hair from his eyes. 'Hello Terry.'

'Hi, Illya,' Terry managed to reply. 'Erm…wow.'


	8. Chapter 8

**THE SAN RICO AFFAIR**

**ACT 8 - "YOU TWO ARE INSANE…" **

**Illya dropped to his knees next to Terry and began to untie her hands and feet. 'Are you hurt?' he asked.**

'**No, just sick of being a guest of Thrush,' Terry sighed. 'Sorry for getting myself into so much trouble, Illya.'**

**The Russian agent gave her a comforting smile. 'Don't worry. We'll be getting out of here soon.' **

**Terry returned the smile, tiredly. 'I won't be sorry to leave San Rico behind forever!'**

**Illya helped her to her feet and the two of them ran to the entrance of the tent. Illya put a finger to his lips to remind Terry to keep her voice low. 'We need to wait for the right moment now.' **

'**For what?'**

**Illya winced as Terry spoke more loudly that he would have liked. 'For a sign that it's time for us to go. Now shush, and wait.'**

**Thankfully Terry fell silent and followed Illya's gaze across the building site. Illya had become completely still and was watching everything intently. Terry quickly became impatient. 'Illya, all I see are Thrush workers. What are we supposed to be…'**

**Suddenly there was an almighty explosion in the middle of the building site. The sound of the blast made Terry crouch down and cover her ears, although Illya never moved. He was smiling.**

'**Wh…what was that??'**

'**Our sign that it's time to go,' Illya replied. He reached down and grabbed Terry's hand. 'Quickly now, you need to keep up with me!'**

**The two of them dashed out of the tent. The explosion had thrown the construction work into chaos; the supervisors were busy shouting and trying to regain control so no-one noticed the two figures making their escape. Illya ran fast and was pulling Terry along behind. She found it hard to run at the same speed but stumbled along as fast as she could. They ran towards the nearby trees and undergrowth that would give them some protection. **

'**Don't look behind…keep running!' Illya urged.**

'**O…Ok!' Terry replied, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder. They could hear shouting and chaos behind them. Still they kept running…**

*** * * * **

'**What happened?'**

'**What the hell caused that?!'**

'**Sir? What do we…'**

'**Get everything under control!' Cole snapped at his bewildered men. Most of them had fallen to the ground for cover when the explosion happened. As the dust settled, it was clear to see that the building work was almost totally destroyed. **

**The supervisors rushed after various workers who were scattering and running in fear. Mr Cole looked around and for a split second saw a dark-haired man disappearing into the nearby trees. His fists clenched at his sides. Calmly, though, he asked one of his men for a handgun. He then left the chaos behind him and walked briskly after his prey. **

*** * * ***

**Illya and Terry were hiding behind a large rock. Terry tried to climb up and look back towards the campsite, but Illya grabbed her back down. **

'**Please, Terry, don't do that!' he hissed.**

'**Sorry…I just like to know what's going on, I guess,' Terry replied. She didn't try and wriggle out of Illya's arms. For a moment they were both still but then Illya moved. Terry looked up and saw him trying to peer over the rock. 'Hey! You just told me not to do that!'**

**Illya winced and put a hand over her mouth. 'Not so loud! And I'm not looking back at the site out of morbid curiosity…I'm looking for someone.'**

'**Mmmoo?' Terry asked, behind Illya's hand. Illya didn't answer. He stayed quiet but was agitated. Then a few moments later, they both heard someone running through the long grass towards them. Terry tried to squirm away in fright but Illya held her still. Then someone joined them behind the rock. 'Mmmpolyon!' Terry tried to greet him.**

**Napoleon looked worn out but managed a bemused smile at Illya. 'Is she being too much of a nuisance?'**

'**She is being too loud,' sighed Illya. He took his hand from her mouth and let her go so that she gave Napoleon a welcoming hug. He groaned in pain and she pulled away.**

'**Oh, sorry! What's wrong? Oh good grief, you're more of a mess than Illya!'**

'**We've had a bad day,' Napoleon replied. 'Several bad days, I should say.'**

'**I'm sorry you had to rescue me,' sighed Terry. 'I'm honestly getting tired of all this.'**

**Napoleon leaned back against the rock and stretched out his weary legs. Illya knelt beside him and looked concerned. 'I think we should go. Can you manage it?'**

'**All the way back to the town? It's a long walk,' Napoleon said grimly. 'But I guess we'll have to.'**

'**We can try and get that car that Terry crashed, if it's still useable,' Illya offered. He looked back and offered his nicest smile at the young photographer. 'Well done with that, by the way.'**

**Terry beamed at the praise but looked puzzled. 'I'd like to ask something. Back there…did you guys have anything to do with that explosion?' **

'**That was my doing,' Napoleon said proudly, which received him an angry nudge in the ribs by his partner. 'Ok, both of us were responsible. While Illya went into the camp and put on a dramatic act for Thrush, I took advantage of the distraction he was causing and went down there to plant a bomb on their new Satrap.'**

'**And the bomb was given to him by me,' Illya said with equal pride. 'We didn't have any weapons but I did have one last thing still with me, an explosive that I keep in my back tooth.'**

**Terry's eyes widened in horror. 'You…carry explosives around in your teeth?'**

**Napoleon shook his head. 'Illya does. I'm not quite as suicidal.'**

'**Our experts at HQ assure me they are quite safe to carry,' Illya argued. 'I would rather have been the one to use it as well, but Napoleon insisted I should be the one to go down and distract Cole.'**

'**You do helpless and pitiable better than me,' Napoleon said with a smirk. 'Besides, I know what a good little actor you are.'**

**Illya didn't reply. He didn't think Napoleon had meant that to sound so pointed, but it brought back recent memories he would rather forget. **

'**You two are insane,' Terry smiled. She breathed a sigh and sat back on her knees, watching the first sign of day-break across the wild landscape. 'Shall we….'**

'**Sorry to interrupt,' said a voice that made them all jump. Mr Cole was suddenly standing on the rock above them, clearly holding a gun. Napoleon quickly scrabbled to his knees and he and Illya faced Cole while trying to hide Terry behind them. They all stared up at the Thrush agent and the barrel of the gun. 'Did you really think you had time for a quick nap? I appreciate that you must all be very tired but I think you should have been more careful. However you sabotaged my building project, you look altogether helpless now.'**

**Napoleon and Illya out of ideas. They looked at one another in desperation. After a brief silence, Cole spoke again.**

'**I won't be shooting you all. I'll be generous. But I do want you, Mr Kuryakin. I need you to come with me.'**

**Illya frowned but saw no other choice but to follow. He gave Cole a nod and stepped forward before Napoleon grabbed his arm.**

'**No, Illya…'**

'**Napoleon, let go and get Terry out of here…'**

'**I can't let you…'**

'**Mr Cole? If I come with you, you will let Solo and Miss Cook go without hindrance, won't you?'**

**The Thrush agent nodded. 'Of course.'**

**Illya gave Napoleon a desperate look and pulled himself out of his friend's grip. 'Go now. It's fine.' **

**There didn't seem to be any alternative but to let Illya go. Napoleon's shoulders sagged in something close to despair and he watched Illya scramble up the rock to Mr Cole. The Thrush agent gave Illya a nudge with his gun and urged him to walk. Cole gave Napoleon and Terry a warning glance over his shoulder, as if to warn them not to try and follow. Terry tugged Napoleon's arm. **

'**Let's go, Napoleon,' she whispered. 'There's…nothing we can do now…'**

*** * * ***

**Mr Cole forced Illya to climb up a steep, rocky slope, close to the ruined building site. Illya looked back over his shoulder; the fall behind him wasn't long enough to kill him but enough to do him serious harm if he landed on one of the rocks below. **

'**What's wrong, Kuryakin?' demanded Cole. 'Could it be that you're scared? I thought you were unflappable, calm under pressure…'**

'**Mr Cole, despite my best efforts, I am only human,' Illya snapped. 'But I am not scared. I have faced death many times before.'**

'**I know, Kuryakin. Let's see how you deal with this.' Cole stepped closer, still pointing the gun straight at Illya and forcing him to the edge of the slope they had climbed. Illya dropped to his knees. Cole lowered the gun but kept it trained on Illya. **

'**Leave him, Cole!' cried a familiar voice from behind. Illya winced. Cole didn't look behind him. **

'**I expected you to follow,' Mr Cole replied. He moved aside so that he could observe both Napoleon and Illya. **

**Napoleon looked exhausted and dishevelled but determined to stop this. He paused and didn't come any closer. He saw Illya perched on the edge of the rock and the gun pointed towards him. 'This will be over soon, partner.'**

'**So you're still partners?' Cole asked, sounding surprised.**

'**Yes!'**

'**No!'**

**The first answer was from Napoleon, the second from Illya, both said at the same time with equal force. After a moments confusion, Mr Cole smiled. 'How strange. I thought you would be the one unhappy with your partnership, Solo, but it appears to be the other way around. Kuryakin is happy to torture you and then desert you, it seems. Are you sure he deserves your loyalty?'**

**Napoleon looked unmoved. 'Whatever troubles we have, they are of no concern to you.' He moved a step closer.**

'**Ah, enough,' Cole warned, moving closer to Illya. The gun was still trained on the blond agent. 'I'm sure you're pathetically loyal enough to not risk me putting a bullet in Mr Kuryakin's head…'**

'**Just go, Napoleon,' Illya sighed. He turned his blue eyes away to look at the ground. The first rays of sunrise caught his hair, making it glow like a halo. **

'**You're very conflicted, Mr Kuryakin, I can see.' Mr Cole did something surprising. He knelt on the ground by Illya so that he could look eye-to-eye with the enemy agent. 'Perhaps this doesn't have to end in your demise. If you were willing, I could find you a high position in Thrush. To tell you the truth, I'm very impressed by you. Your imitation of Colonel Nexor was faultless. It had to have been for you to succeed in ruining our plans. You are ruthless and determined to do your job, whatever the cost. Would you consider joining us, Illya?'**

**Illya frowned but looked deep in thought. 'I…I've been committed to U.N.. I'm not sure I can switch sides so easily…'**

'**It would be easy, Illya, I can make it so,' Cole urged, subtly using the agent's first name to be more familiar. 'I'd much rather see you join Thrush than die at my hands. Consider this, U.N.C.L.E may not even want you to return when they find out you had to use torture on your colleague. Solo will never be able to trust you again…it's likely that your fellow operatives will feel the same way.'**

**Illya swallowed. 'I hadn't thought of that.' His breathing quickened and he swallowed. He fixed his deep blue eyes on the small dark eyes of the Thrush superior. 'Perhaps I will be rejected. Perhaps I don't have any option.'**

'**The best course of action would be for you to join us, I promise you,' Mr Cole. 'We can work things out…'**

**The Thrush agent was suddenly knocked onto his side as Napoleon landed on him. Solo had been edging closer while Cole was busy with Illya. Napoleon pushed the Thrush agent to his back and grappled with him for the gun, all the time dangerously close to the edge of the rocks. The U.N.C.L.E agent grabbed Cole's wrist and held it to the ground so he couldn't use the gun, but Cole was almost his equal in strength. The battle could go either way.**

'**Napoleon!' cried Illya, jumping to his feet and hovering nearby. His fists were clenched at his sides. **

**His partner looked up at him. 'What, Illya? Tell me what you want!' Napoleon almost ground out through clenched teeth. **

'**Yes…Illya…' Mr Cole gasped as he tried to fight against Napoleon. 'Make your choice!'**

**Illya stepped up slowly, almost mechanically. He looked at Napoleon and then Cole. Then he stepped on the gun that was still in Cole's grip and held against the ground by Napoleon. 'I'm bored by your words now, Mr Cole. I think we should conclude this affair.'**

**When Illya had the gun in his possession, Napoleon let Cole back to his feet. The now un-armed but furious Thrush agent tried to fight Napoleon again, but Illya knocked into him hard. Mr Cole lost his footing and dropped over the side of the rock with a piercing cry. **

**Napoleon pulled himself wearily to his knees but couldn't get up any further. He sighed deeply and rest his hands on his thighs. He looked up at Illya, his eyes barely open. **

'**I've had enough now.'**

**Illya gave him a wry smile. 'Me too.' He extended his hand. 'We really ought to be getting back to New York, you know.'**

'**Yeah.' Napoleon accepted Illya's hand and let himself to be dragged to his feet. They both heard a shout and looked down over the edge of the rock. **

'**I'm hurt!' yelled Mr Cole, who was lying on his back and not even attempting to move. 'I think my leg is broken!'**

'**How unfortunate,' Illya said, flatly.**

'**Very,' agreed Napoleon. He raised his voice. 'Don't worry, Mr Cole, we're happy to tell your colleagues back at the site that you're here. I'm sure they'll be happy to come to your aid.'**

**He and Illya shared a look and then walked away together, in no great rush. **

*** * * * ***


	9. Chapter 9

**THE SAN RICO AFFAIR**

**EPILOGUE**

It was almost noon and another hot, sunny day in San Rico. Down on the harbour, Napoleon sat on a bench in the small hut by the pier. He stared through the open window. He watched people milling around preparing boats for a while, then watched the sun dance on the calm water.

After retrieving Terry, Napoleon and Illya had secretly fled from the ruined complex site and made the long journey back to San Rico on foot. They had stopped briefly at the hotel to collect their things and communicate more information back to Mr Waverly. They had considered staying there longer to rest but all three were desperate to leave. Illya had stopped off in town on the way and Napoleon and Terry went straight to the harbour to wait.

'How long until our boat comes in?' a voice beside him asked. 'Napoleon?'

Napoleon blinked. 'Oh, ah, I'm not sure. I haven't asked anyone.'

Terry sighed sharply and slammed her cap down on the bench. 'Napoleon, you're so disorganised! I need to get back to New York…I do have a job to do, you know!'

'I do know, Terry,' sighed Napoleon. 'But I'm sure there will be a boat to the mainland soon. They're fairly regular.'

'Well I sure hope so,' replied Terry, folding her arms. 'I need to get home and get a new camera. Desperately. How is a photographer supposed to make a living without a camera?'

Napoleon winced against her high voice. 'Don't you ever get tired, Terry?'

Terry was about to reply but someone was coming through the entrance and distracted her. 'Hey, Illya! Nice suit!'

Illya gave her a small smile. 'Thank you. I bought it in the town.' He gave his dark suit a quick look over and walked in, sitting down beside Napoleon who raised an eyebrow at him. 'Another dark suit? Is that all you wear these days?'

'I like them,' Illya answered.

'When does our boat come in, Illya?' asked Terry. 'Don't tell me you didn't ask, either.'

'I'm afraid I haven't yet…'

'Oh guys!!' Terry growled. She got up and stormed out of the hut. 'I guess it's left up to me, then!'

Illya turned and gave Napoleon a look. Napoleon smiled wearily. 'I believe she's in bad mood.'

'She has been through rather a lot,' Illya conceded. 'Perhaps we can allow her to feel rather frustrated.' He watched Napoleon put his head back against the wooden wall. 'Are you alright?' Illya asked.

Napoleon opened one eye, his bruised one. 'I've been better. But then again, I've been worse.'

Illya put his head back as well. 'I can't say I'll be sorry to leave San Rico. I suppose our affairs here have ended successfully, but our efforts to achieve that success have been rather taxing.'

Napoleon was quiet for a moment, thinking deeply. Eventually he spoke. 'It was a nice bluff, getting Cole to believe you would join Thrush.'

Illya smiled proudly. 'It was, wasn't it.'

'I almost believed you for a moment.'

'You did?'

'I wasn't sure what to believe. Especially after you announced to Cole you were no longer my partner.'

Illya bit his lip. Napoleon looked at him directly now. 'Come on, Illya, let's sort this once and for all. Are you serious about getting a transfer?'

'Maybe.'

'I'll repeat the question I asked you earlier, then. What do you want, Illya?'

Illya rubbed the bridge of his nose and faced his friend. 'It's quite simple, Napoleon. I want you to trust me.'

'I do trust you…'

'Saying it isn't enough. When we were stuck on the riverbank, you didn't trust me enough to keep watch. Before that, you were obviously resentful of me. We can't continue our partnership if that's how it will be from now on. I need to be sure that you really want me as your partner. If I'm not sure, then it's best I leave.'

Napoleon ran a hand through his hair and sighed. 'Listen Illya, when you ran off at the riverbank, what did I go and do?'

Illya paused before answering. 'You fell asleep.'

'Exactly. If I really didn't trust you, do you think I would have let my guard down that much?'

'Alright…Perhaps not,' Illya replied, slowly. 'But what about before that?'

'Before that? I admit, I wasn't exactly pleased with you!' Napoleon explained. 'But that was only because I was sore about you torturing me in front of Gurnius…sore in more than one sense of the word. But I don't hold some kind of grudge against you, Illya. You forget as well that Cole very nicely set up the chance for me to get my revenge on you. And I wouldn't take it. We're good together, Illya. I don't want to lose what we have.'

Illya watched Napoleon closely and carefully took in what his friend told him. He didn't doubt Napoleon's honesty. 'I don't want to lose it either,' he finally replied. 'So you're willing to put all of this behind us?'

Napoleon smiled. 'What happens in San Rico stays in San Rico, partner.'

Illya rolled his eyes and couldn't help smiling back. They shook hands.

Napoleon put his head back again and shut his eyes. 'You told HQ about the Thrushies trying to build their new nest, didn't you?'

Illya leaned back against the wooden hut as well. 'Yes. Mr Waverly will be sending re-enforcements to deal with whatever Thrush presence remains there, though I expect they will be too disheartened to try and carry on with their construction work. Mr Waverly seemed quite pleased with our efforts here.'

'Good. It's nice to be appreciated occasionally.'

'Very occasionally.'

They both fell silent for a moment before Napoleon spoke again, sounding half-asleep. 'I still think you're crazy for carrying explosives in your teeth.'

Illya just chuckled.

* * * *

A boat finally arrived at the harbour to take passengers to the mainland. Terry Cook watched the small craft sail in and take anchor and almost squealed with joy. She jumped up from where she had been sitting on the pier and rushed into the little hut to tell the U.N.C.L.E agents they could finally go home.

Terry rushed in through the open entrance but bit her lip before she called out. She found Napoleon and Illya slumped back against the wall, leaning against each other and fast asleep. Terry giggled and shook her head. 'My poor, brave guys…if only I had a camera…'

* * * *

_Thanks to everyone who's followed my story and for the great feedback; it's all really appreciated!_


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